


Help me to sleep

by Hundling



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Athur doesn't know how to ask for help, Cheeky Merlin, Eventual Resolution, First Kisses, It's cold so they cuddle, M/M, Non evil Morgana because we like her, Then Arthur figures out he's a cuddle monster and literally doesn't sleep for months, touch-starved arthur, why? because I say so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hundling/pseuds/Hundling
Summary: Arthur, for all rights and purposes, functions well. He's smart, and strong, and he doesn't need help from anyone. Then after a cold night on a camping trip he discovers he's a snuggler and has no idea what to do with this information. Is he touch starved? Quite possibly. Maybe that's why his bed feels so cold without Merlin.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 207





	1. Camping

It was early november in Camelot, and so by all means, not horrendously cold. No, not compared to the later months, say January or Febuary. Not even the knights were allowed to take overnight patrols then, not unless they were sent with piles upon piles of mittens. 

So no. It was not frost-bite-fear cold. The down side of November was that it was warm enough in the day to enjoy the idea of galavanting through the woods and sitting by a fire late at night. Unfortunately all meanings of joy disappeared after the sun went down. It was then that the cold sunk in. 

Arthur, with his regrettable lack of mittens, was sitting as close to the fire as possible. His hands practically touched the embers while Merlin sat close to him. In fact, though Arthur would never admit it, over an hour or so he had been schooching closer to his manservant, and he had been so very cold that one time Merlin got up to fetch more firewood. 

It was just that Merlin was always so warm. Even now as Merlin shivered next to him he still radiated heat, and he definitely didn’t look as miserable as Arthur felt. 

“I can’t feel my bones,” Arthur complained while he rubbed his knuckles together, hoping to bring some life back into them. 

“Well a hunting trip certainly wasn’t my idea,” Merlin grumbled as he tugged his scarf over the bridge of his nose. A scarf would have been smart. Why hadn’t he told Merlin to pack him a scarf? 

“It wasn’t my idea either,” Arthur reminded him sharply, even if he hadn’t exactly protested the plan, “My father wants a deer for the feast.” 

“Right, of course, and you volunteered for the hunt,” Merlin huffed, “ _ It’ll be fine Merlin _ , You said.  _ Stop being a little girl about it, _ You said.” 

“Yeah Merlin, stop being a little girl about it,” Arthur grumbled, even as he rushed to put his hands back into the fire. 

Again Merlin huffed, but this time he kept his mouth shut. Probably trying to conserve any warm air he had left. Unlike Arthur, his teeth weren’t chattering, and a second later he got up again, searching for some sizable rocks he could heat up with the embers. 

Arthur didn’t know how Merlin could bear to move around so much. All he wanted to do was curl up into a little ball and dream about his bed. It just wasn’t fair. Merlin was practically skin and bones; for all rightful purposes he should be even colder than Arthur. Even the horses were cold, and they were huddled together with just about half of the packed blankets on top of them. 

Merlin plopped back down next to Arthur. He placed three foot sized rocks down close to the fire, practically pushing them into the embers. Then he pulled a half blanket over Arthurs shoulder, the other half over himself. 

“Where’d you get this from?” Arthur asked, looking at the material of the blanket. It was brown, and made of a thick fiber he couldn’t identify. It almost looked like it should make a crackling noise.

“I packed a spare.” Merlin said, and offered no other explanation. 

“And you left it in the bags the whole time?” Arthur asked, even if he hadn’t thought to pull out his own blankets and use them either. They hadn’t even set up his bed roll yet. 

Goddess how he was dreading laying down. Maybe he’d just sit here by the fire though the whole night.  _ Maybe he’d actually just lay in the fire, that would be nice.  _

The thought had come as a natural sarcasm, to deflect the cold that he was feeling, but somehow Arthur found that he was feeling quite warmer than he had been a minute ago. He supposed that that was probably what blankets were meant to do- that, and Merlin was again pressed close to his side. Speaking of Merlin, his manservant was glaring at him, his lips were pressed together into a thin line. 

“Are you even listening to me?” He asked. His voice didn’t sound as mad as his face did, so Arthur just shrugged it off, feeling a bit more lively now that his back was sheltered from the cold.

“Merlin, when do I ever listen to you?” Arthur meant it to be nonchalant, or a note to his nobility perhaps. Merlin seemed to think it was hilarious, and he laughed so hard he almost bent over into the fire. 

“It’s hardly that funny,  _ Mer _ lin,” Arthur said, which only made Merlin laugh harder. When he was finally done he whipped a tear away from his eye. Arthur couldn’t tell if the tear had been real or if Merlin was just being dramatic, but he rolled his eyes regardless. Then he pulled the edge of the blanket tighter around his side. That material really was something else. He couldn’t figure out what it was made from, but it worked wonders. 

“Really Merlin, where did you get this blanket from? I’ve never seen a thread like this.” 

Merlin stared blankly at him for a second, before his eyes flitted away, and he squinted at the fire. 

“...Not sure?” He offered finally, and Athur gave him a deadpan stare.

“You’re not  _ sure. _ ” He said. Merlin shrugged. 

“It was a gift from my mother. She got it from traveling merchants. I didn’t think to ask.” At the end of his sentence Merlin bared his teeth in what could have been a grin, but was too horribly awkward to be anything resembling. Really, if Arthur could think of a better explanation he would think that Merlin was lying. And then it hit him. 

“Merlin…” He said, furrowing his brow, “Have you been stealing from Morgana?” 

Merlin blinked. And then he blinked again. That was all the answer he needed. 

“ _ Mer _ lin, is this one of the blankets Lord Benshir sent to her? I can’t believe you, this is more expensive than you yearly pay-  _ and  _ it’s a royal gift! You can’t just snatch it-” 

“Morgana said I could!” Merlin protested, “I told Gwen my chambers were cold, and Morgana practically chucked it at me- do you know how many blankets she’s been gifted in the last three weeks alone? She certainly doesn’t need them, and it’s getting better use than it would in a chest somewhere-” 

“Alright, Alright fine.” Arthur conceded. “Suppose I am glad it’s here now.” 

Merlin let out a sigh of relief, and settled back into a more relaxed position. It wasn’t an entirely false story, it was one that he wished he had thought of three minutes ago when Arthur first asked. What Arthur really didn't need to know was that the real blanket Morgana had shoved on him was laid neatly across his bed back in his chambers.

They stared at the fire again. The silence was again wrapped around them, only this time they weren’t completely freezing their butts off. 

Arthur still wasn’t convinced that he wanted to sleep, but Merlin looked up at the moon and sighed. 

“I’ll start unrolling the bed rolls,” he said, “we’d better get an early start unless you want to be spending two nights out here.” That was a matter that Arthur readily agreed on. He did not want to spend another night out here. Even if Merlin had smuggled along a royal blanket. 

Merlin stood, and Arthur was instantly cold again, even though Merlin left the blanket with him as he stood to unroll the mats and the blankets. He was muttering to himself, and his back was turned to Arthur. 

Arthur held his hands close to the fire, savoring the heat before he would have to crawl into his bed, which would undoubtedly be freezing. The fact that Merlin would probably want his blanket back was also sticking heavily into his brain. Arthur could just claim the blanket from himself… but Merlin really was all skin and bones, and he didn’t know if he had the heart. 

When Merlin came back into Arthur’s line of sight he was holding strips of fabric which he used to wrap around the rocks he had gathered previously. Arthur turned his head to the side to watch as Merlin shoved the heated rocks into each of their blankets, and belated he noticed that their sleeping mats were practically on top of each other. They were squarely side by side.

It wasn’t unusual for them to sleep next to each other on camping trips, but never  _ that  _ close. But then again, it was also almost never  _ this _ cold. So. Whatever. At least he would be warm. He realized that Merlin was giving him an odd look, and it hit him that Merlin thought he was going to protest. 

“Really Merlin?” He asked as he chucked another log on fire, then he sat and started burying himself under the blankets. 

“I’m not moving my bed roll,” Merlin said, crossing his arms.

“No, idiot. Stop glaring at me and get in your bed.” 

Merlin blinked, and then for once, he did as he was told and he climbed right in next to Arthur. He only sat up to wrap his blankets carefully at his toes, and to nudge the rocks to the side when they proved a bit too hot to be comfortable. Arthur lay Merlin’s royal blanket over top of their bed and it settled over them like a permanent block against the cold. Arthur pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes. 

With Merlin so close it was hard to figure out where he should put his arms. Or what to do with his knees. There never seemed to be enough space. And so he slept with one arm bent underneath his pillow, and the other pinned to his side. 

It wasn’t perfect, but at least he wasn’t freezing. 

\----

When Arthur woke up he felt as if he had been asleep for a hundred moons, and for at least three minutes he could not bear to open his eyes, even as the birds around him were loud and singing of the mourning. 

There was always that one nest outside of his window in the castle. He told Merlin to get rid of it every year in the spring, and every year Merlin ignored him. Some days it was annoying, but sometimes they made his chambers look a little less lonesome. 

Come to think of it though, these were not the chirps of his birds. There were far too many birds. And the sunlight wasn’t right either. He had imagined that he had been on a hunt with Merlin- but there was no imaginable way that he could be this warm, or this comfortable on a hunt. Ever. Especially not in November, when the ground was beginning to freeze, and the air was colder than anything; though not colder than it would be in December. Or January. Alright so it wasn’t  _ as _ cold as it could get, but it was nowhere near pleasant. 

Still, the more awake he was the more sure he was that the hunt hadn’t been a dream, nor the cold of the night, which meant that laying beside him should be Merlin. 

Arthur's eyes popped open to find that he was staring at the skin on the back of Merlin’s neck, that his forehead had been _ resting a _ gainst Merlin’s neck- and that that one pesky arm he couldn’t figure out what to do with had somehow wound up around Merlins waist. 

Good lord he was spooning Merlin. 

_ Merlin. _

He was aghast for a moment, and then he blinked, and wondered if he actually cared that much. Obviously when asked he would deflect, or better yet, he and Merlin would never talk about his ever again- 

But for the moment-

It was kind of pitiful, honestly, but this was the most comfortable he had felt in ages. He had that thick blanket holding him down on his back, and Merlin breathing softly, and held against him. Even the sleeping mat felt like heaven, which was abismolly wrong because no sleeping mat he’s had had ever even resembled  _ pleasant  _ for a good night’s sleep. And on that note- Arthur couldn’t even remember the last time he had had a good night's sleep.

Merlin’s voice piped into his brain and wondered aloud if that was why he was such an asshole all of the time.

_ Merlin _ . 

Suddenly Arthur couldn't remember if he had ever been this close to someone for such a long time. He wouldn’t be caught dead cuddling with one of the nights. He obviously couldn’t stay this close to any of the ladies he courted for fear of a scandal. 

Merlin was probably the first person he had been close with since… maybe one of his nursemaids? No- Morgana used to sneak into his chambers when she first arrived in camelot. She was afraid of sleeping on her own and she detested all the adults who looked down on her. Sometimes she would crawl into his bed without a word and he would hold her hand. 

That hadn’t lasted very long, but it had been nice. 

Morgana was always going on about that. She used to read books about grief, or happy living. Things like that. Apparently the average person is supposed to be hugged at least once a day to be happy. When she tried to give Arther a hug he had sneered a pulled away, saying something snide like  _ Well I’m glad to know you’re average then _ . 

He had been such a jerk then. And if hugging people was this nice, he kind of wished he had taken her up on the offer. 

Right.  _ This. _ That was the key word here. This was where he was right now, and he needed to figure out what to do about it. Absently he realized that he had been rubbing loose fabric through his fingers as he thought. And, suddenly mortified, he realized that that fabric had been Merlin's shirt. 

It was a good thing Merlin wasn’t awake because he would never let Arthur forget it. And that left another problem. Presumably Merlin was asleep. Otherwise he undoubtedly would have gotten up, to spare himself and Arthur that embarrassment. Which meant that now that Arthur was awake he should really do the same, before Merlin woke up and they were left with an awkward conversation about how Arthur is apparently a snuggler. 

Good lord, this wasn’t what he wanted to be doing this morning. (Except that it kind of was- and Arthur really didn’t want to get up. Or unwrap his arms from Merlin.)

Arthur sat up, and slipped out from under the covers. He immediately regretted the decision. 

One,

Because he was cold as fuck, 

And two, because now Merlin was staring at him with a bleary frown on his face. 

“Why’d you move?” He whined, and Arthur felt his mouth go dry. Merlin grumbled, and pressed his palms to his eyes, rubbing away any remaining sleep. Then he squinted at Arthur, and flopped his head back against the pillow. 

“Merlin….” Arthur asked after a moment, “how long have you been awake?” 

“Longer than you, I’ll bet.” Merlin mumbled, and then said. “Having fun with my shirt, were you?” 

“Absolutely not. I was trying to figure out where they could sell such terrible fabric, it’s the worst weaving I’ve ever seen.”

“What’s with you and fabric?” 

“Shut  _ up _ , Merlin _. _ ” Arthur glowered. And then he did something very petty. He tore Merlin’s fancy donated blanket off of the bed, and off of Merlin, to wrap it around his own shoulders while he dug through the packs for breakfast. Merlin let out a yelp of protest and glared at Arthur some more. Arthur ignored him.

Making breakfast would ordinarily be Merlin’s job, but Athur needed to focus on literally anything else. So he dug out their savings, restarted the fire, and warmed up the bread and meat in a pan. Merlin just sat and watched him. He was awake enough to look amused now. 

“Well?” Arthur gestured at the food when it was ready. Merlin raised his eyebrow, and looked at the burnt edges. 

“You’re a terrible cook, you know,” Merlin said as he took the bread, looking at it suspiciously.

“You put it in a pan, Merlin. And then you cook it. Not my fault your little girl stomach can’t handle the extra flavor.” 

“Ah yes. Flavor. That’s definitely what you call char.” 

If Arthur had been in a different mood he might have snapped at Merlin, or threatened to send him to the stocks. Maybe, given a very specific mood, he might have laughed. Instead he just rolled his eyes and ate his bread. They packed up shortly thereafter and they set about to go hunting for the day. 

They were lucky. Arthur found a stag wandering through the woods, and that alone would be plenty for his fathers feast. Merlin cheered, thankful to spend the night in his own bed rather than in the cold. 

Arthur was glad too, of course. For the horses sake, his own, and Merlin’s. But at the same time he almost felt… disappointed. 

This was of course the same feeling that he had whenever a camping trip came to an early end, and for absolutely no other reason. Definitely not because he was starting to suspect that he may be just a tiny bit… how would Morgana say it? Touch starved. Yeah. Definitely not that. 

And when finally they made it back to the castle, and Merlin waved his final farewell for the night, Arthur definitely didn’t miss him. 

He didn’t pay attention to the wide stone walls, which were almost as cold as the forest. 

He didn’t think about how his mattress was too big, 

Or that his blankets didn’t seem heavy enough. 

He didn’t even think at all. 

And yet somehow he was up thinking all night. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just can't sleep, ya know?

Despite the thoughts running through his head, when the sun started to rise Arthur couldn’t remember a single one of them. Or even if the thoughts had really been there in the first place. 

There must have been something. He couldn’t have been up all night thinking about nothing. Maybe about patrols. Arthur was in charge of the patrols, so that would make sense. Perhaps he had had a brilliant idea for new work shifts. 

He was often worried about taking over as king someday, so he could have been thinking about which knights or lords he would promote to become an advisor. 

He didn’t think about Merlin though, not except for all the chores that he would assign for today. 

Merlin. Now that certainly was a thought. (Not one that he had been thinking of, and not of birdsong and warmth.)(Stupid Merlin, why was he always so warm?)

Speaking of Merlin… Arthur turned his head away from the gray of the morning and stared at his chamber doors. Merlin must be on his way over by now. 

It was morning now, so that must mean that his manservant was awake. It was his job to wake Arthur up in the mornings, so therego if it was morning Merlin should be here and puttering about with his chores. Sometimes he hummed, or tapped his foot. But he was always here. 

His quarters never felt as quiet as they did now. 

Silence was a disturbing feeling, when nothing was moving but him, when nothing spoke but him. And when it was so unbearably cold. Arthur wished he was warm. But since he could not be that, he sat up and decided that it was time to get some work done. 

It was definitely too late to try and get some sleep now, the morning was already halfway started- even if he seemed to be the only one awake. Even outside in the courtyard there was no one to be seen. It was only then that Arthur started to wonder just how early it really was. 

There was some gray out, and it was November, so it couldn’t be that early. Even if- well- Arthur squinted as he looked out the window. 

Alright so it was still dark enough to hide the forest in a big shadow. And he couldn’t exactly see the shapes of the tiles in the courtyard, only that the bright stone was reflecting what little light there actually was. Arthur frowned at this discovery, and looked around his room again. He lit a candle and decided it didn’t matter. He was awake, and so the day would begin.

Very slowly the sun rose, and it felt like hours later when Merlin finally barged in through the door. 

Merlin always barged through the doors, but he never looked quite so shocked when he did. 

“You’re awake-” He said, sounding utterly surprised. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “And you're late.” 

“I am  _ not _ late,” Merlin protested, “I woke up before  _ Gauis  _ did.” 

“And yet,” Arthur said smugly, “you’re late,” 

Merlin huffed and looked at Arthur doubtfully, and he stared at the unmade bed; squinting at it as if something were horribly wrong. 

“You’re never up this early,” He finally said. Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“You do know that I am perfectly capable of waking myself?” He said, and Merlin scrunched his nose up disbelievingly. This was truly a very Merlin thing to do, but somehow it managed to piss Arthur off, and more than his usual levels of pissed off would be. He gave Merlin a sharp look, and then he returned his attention back to the reports he was looking over. 

“Did you bring my breakfast with you?” He said, even though Merlin obviously hadn’t.

“I had a maid fetch it,” Merlin said as he started to straighten the sheets. 

“Shucking off on duties, are you?” Arthur didn’t turn to look but he could sense Merlin giving him a strange look. 

“Well you usually like being awake before food is shoved in your face, so yeah I thought I’d do that first,” 

“Clearly,” Arthur said, “I am awake.”

“Oh gee,” Merlin responded, “I hadn’t noticed.” 

Arthur did turn now, but only to glare at Merlin, an expression which Merlin readily returned. They only stopped when the maid knocked at the door and Merlin stepped outside to get breakfast. When he returned he placed the tray firmly in front of Arthur, disrupting Arthur’s work. Merlin confidently stole the second role off of his plate. Arthur didn’t even react. 

Merlin frowned, and waved his arm up and down dramatically when Arthur didn’t touch the food for a solid two minutes. 

“What, Merlin?” Arthur finally asked. 

“Why are you being so weird today? It’s not sorcery, is it?”

“Don’t be stupid, Merlin,” Athur said as he picked up his fork. He’s not being  _ that  _ strange. It’s only that he’s been awake for a while now, and he’s starting to wish he had managed to sleep in. All he wanted now was a nap and there was barely enough room in his schedule for a meal, never mind a nap. That, and the knights would never stop teasing him about it. 

But gods how he wanted it.

In fact, Arthur was trying to wrack his brain to remember if he had slept at all. He didn’t think he had. After Arthur was done spacing out he stuck a piece of the stew in his mouth and took a very long time chewing it. It was tough, and tangy. Probably a rabbit. 

Merlin was still giving him a funny look, but Arthur decided that he didn’t really give a shit. He carried that attitude with him when he left for morning training with his nights, and he even continued a toned down version of it when he attended his fathers council meeting. 

If he was snippy when Lord Elren disagreed with him about not sending patrols traipsing around the kingdom, well that was nobody's business. Arthur’s argument was that it was cold as shit and there was no reason for them to be out there. Sure, the villages might feel good knowing that Camelot remembered they existed… But they might feel resentful if the nights came waltzing through in the cold of the year with nothing to share other than a smile and a wave. And this meeting had already made it very clear that Camelot did not have enough supplies to give out… not to anyone but the very, very needy. 

So no, he villages would much rather the knights come visit in the spring, or the summer. Fall would have been ideal, but that thought was long past. As he spoke the statement he watched as Lord Elren rolled his eyes,

“It’s a message of goodwill!” 

“It’s not a message of anything, unless you’d like to send supplies to the villages while we’re there!” Arthur argued back vehemently. “What’s goodwill got to do with anything if there’s not any backing behind it!” 

As he spoke Arthur flicked his eyes up to Merlin; not because this was a habit, but because Merlin came from a small village like the ones Lord Elren was talking about; and if anyone had experience with matters like these, it was him. 

Yes, really, that was all the look was meant to be. Simple confirmation that it wasn’t a good plan. But the only thought that entered his mind was his first argument against the plan- That it was cold- and that brought back memories of his own encounter with camping. 

He didn’t keep eye contact long, and when he tore his eyes away he declared an end to the matter and remained silent for the rest of the meeting. After they were finished his father called him to stay behind. He lectured Arthur on his attitude for all of five minutes. Then he sent Arthur away, and when he went, Merlin walked by his side. 

“Attitude or not,” Merlin said, “you were right.” He left it as simple as that but it gave Arthur a feeling of relief. 

Out loud he said “Of course I am,” and left it at that. The rest of the day was long, and boring, and  _ tedious _ , but Arthur struggled through. He even read all of Leon’s reports. And the notes attached to the reports. And every other scrap of paper he was supposed to read for no other reason than he should. Then he sent Merlin away and crawled into his bed. 

It was stupid how much he hated for Merlin to leave as the silence again droned into his ears. His pillows were stupid, and cold. And his bed was stupid, and too big. 

He thought for a solid two hours about everything Morgana used to twitter on about. Gods how he used to hate hearing her, but now he wished he remembered more of the words. Funnily enough there was one thing he did remember, and it was only because Morgana had hated it.

It was a story about a frozen king. He was cursed by a sorcerer to have skin made of ice, (that was the part of the story Morgana hated,). The King could not be touched without spreading the curse and so he dressed himself, and he bathed himself. He touched no one and let no one touch him. He lived for decades without a single human touch until he grew so lonely that he died. 

Arthur was starting to hate the story, probably because he could hear Morgana’s voice whispering what this story was supposed to mean. The moral of it- the lessons- (Loneliness- fear-); And also because he felt personally attacked. It was exhausting. But he didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep. Not until what must have been late into the night. 

In fact, he knew it was late, because before he went to bed he had set a candle for light. And when Merlin woke him up the next morning the candle was still burning. 

And Arthur? Arthur was in a terrible mood. It was dreadful. He almost considered canceling everything and sleeping away the rest of the day- but he couldn’t do that. He had duties to attend to. And so he didn’t. 

That night, though, he wished that he had. Because when he crawled into his bed, head pounding, eyes feeling like nothing more than black holes, he found he was still unable to sleep. 

Gods if this wasn’t hell he didn’t know what was. And the worst part was that it was fine. Kind of. Not really. Sure, he felt like shit, and sometimes he acted like a piece of shit, but when he really needed to he could pull through. He was Camolot’s crown prince. He was charming with the guests, and valiant in combat. Arthur didn’t let his concentration wander for a minute for that. But for other things his patience was growing thin. 

Scratch that. That may be a mild way of putting it. He felt like he was a dirty rag chucked in with the laundry. Soapy and repeatedly hammered with rocks. 

His eyes hurt. His limbs were heavy too, but it was the eyes that were really bothersome. Heavy limbs were just a type of training to get through. Tired eyes could get a man killed. 

After the fourth night Arthur decided that he couldn’t go on like this, and though his pride would suffer for it, he decided to visit Gauis. 

“I’d like a sleeping drought.” He announced as soon as the doors were closed. Merlin was off cleaning the stables so Arthur had the benefit of being alone in his moment of weakness. He waited for Gauis’s reaction, and braced himself for the arched eyebrows, and that thoughtful slow tone that Gauis always took. 

“Of course, Sire. Might I ask why?” 

Arthur fidgeted, and glanced briefly up at the ceiling. “I haven’t been sleeping well, why else?” It came out harsher than he had intended and internally he winced when Gauis raised his hands in an apology, or an admission that Arthur had won. It was something like that, and Arthur didn’t know which. He didn’t like either of them. 

“For medical reasons, I must ask you a few questions so that I can give you the right tonic.” Gauis explained after Arthur’s expression cooled down. Though he still felt tense, Arthur nodded. 

“How bad is it?” 

Arthur looked away. “I’m awake past midnight.” When Gauis continued to stare at him he shrugged. “Alright, long past midnight. Can’t tell how late. I’ve seen the sky go gray a couple times.”

“I see. And how long has this been going on?”

“A week.” 

“Any nightmares?”

“No,”

“Disturbing thoughts?”

Oh thoughts for sure, but none of them disturbing. Mostly just self pity “No.”

Gauis nodded sagely as he wrote down the notes in his medical journal. He looked back up at Arthur for a second, and Arthur hated the pity that he saw in his eyes. That was why he hadn’t come to Gauis initially. 

“Verywell,” Gauis said. “I’ll have someone bring you the tonic before you go to bed.”

Arthur nodded stiffly. “Thank you, Gauis,” he said, and exited the chambers as quickly as possible. He felt so stupid that he couln’t sleep. He was exhausted all day. All day. He was exhausted until his head hit the pillow, and then he lay torn. Curl up into a tight ball to stay as warm as possible- Or stretch his limbs as far as they would go to make his bed feel as small as it could. As small as it had felt before that trip with Merlin. 

(Damn Merlin. This was probably his fault.)

He just didn’t understand why he couldn’t sleep. But he couldn’t, and it was driving him insane. Arthur spent the rest of the afternoon dreaming about falling into his bed. As embarrassing as asking for the drought had been, he was enjoying the prospect of some actual sleep.

He was so excited, in fact, that he actually sent Merlin away early for the night… only to find Merlin returning a few minutes later with a small brown bottle in his hand. He passed it to Arthur curiously. 

“Do I want to know what’s in this?” He asked, and clearly he was asking. Arthur took the bottle with a glare and moved to shut the door. 

“You can go now, Merlin,” He said. 

He sat in his bed and he chugged the small vial. Gauis was right, it did help. 

This time he fell asleep after four hours instead of six. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin tries to get some help for Arthur.

It wasn’t even a good sleep. 

Arthur was awake intermittently all through the night. The only change was that this time he refused to leave his bed, even after the birds started singing. 

Fuck it. 

He didn’t actually plan on getting up ever again. (He knew that he had to. He had duties. He had plans. But he was bone tired and absolutely useless, so he closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.)

(It didn’t work).

Arthur rolled over in his bed and burrowed his face in between his pillows and pulled his blankets up well over his shoulders. It didn’t feel like enough. He was still cold, if only in his heart. 

Only a second after the thought, and Arthur snorted.  _ His heart- _ how cheesy was that? How overly dramatic? If he didn’t get some sleep soon he might actually start spouting poetry. And it wouldn’t even be good poetry either- it would be gawky bailing groans about how few pillows he had in his bed. 

...Honestly though, it was a very remorseful amount. Maybe he should ask Merlin for more. He could lay them around himself, might make him feel less alone. If he was feeling really smart he could take a page out of Merlin’s book and heat some stones before bed, put then next to the pillows and then maybe it could be something like- 

Well. Something like Merlin. 

Gods it was so stupid. Arthur pressed his forehead so hard into his mound of pillows that he actually broke through them and shoved his face against the mattress instead. Maybe if he buried his head he would be able to chase away those memories.

The warmth.

Soft cloth pressed to his face...

God how had he been so comfortable? Seriously, how? There was no reason for it. It defied all laws of the universe. 

And had that really been the last time he slept well? It felt like just yesterday- or a month. Something between an hour and an eternity. Arthur’s thoughts were interrupted by Merlin as his chamber doors creaked open. 

He could feel his manservant pause, and imagined Merlin standing there: hands clenched tightly around the edges of his food platter, a pinched look on his face. He was probably trying to figure out if Athur was actually awake. 

The last couple mornings he had been. He’d been awake and glaring like death from his seat at the table. Either that or laying with his eyes open and his head pressed flat into the table. Sometimes he stared out over the window. Anything like that, but he was never in bed. 

If Arthur had the energy to feel touched he would have, as he listened to Merlin attempting to put the breakfast tray down quietly. He was probably balancing it on one arm and carrying a pitcher on the other. Maybe a kettle for tea. Whatever it was, he was trying to be quiet. It was such an un-Merlin-like thing to do. Usually he just-

Right. There it was. Merlin making weird garbled noises at the fireplace. Arthur rolled his eyes mentally closed his ears as he shoved his elbows underneath his pillows, using his palms as a head rest. He closed his eyes. 

He might have actually dozed off for a second because the next thing he knew Merlin was trying to rip off his blankets and Arthur had grabbed tight to his manservants wrist with an all but feral snarl on his face. Merlin stood frozen while Arthur blinked to try and regain his sanity. It took longer than he would have liked. 

Merlin’s skin was warm. Another second passed, and Arthur no longer looked like he was ready to murder, but he still did not let go. Another second passed and Arthur loosened his grip, letting his head fall back on the pillows. 

He could remove his hand all the way. He could almost feel the gravity pulling his arm back down onto the mattress, but he didn’t let go. Merlin could move away if he wanted to. He did. 

Arthur tried not to feel disappointed. 

“...What’s wrong with you?” Merlin asked cautiously. Horrified, Arthur wondered if this was Merlin’s response to Arthur’s lingering touch. It didn’t seem like a Merlin response. Not Merlin, who had laid there for who knows how long while Arthur spooned him. Not Merlin, who had made very protestful noises when Arthur tried to untangle himself from the blankets. 

Then Arthur remembered that he had all but bitten Merlin when his manservant tried to wake him up. 

_ That  _ was probably what Merin was asking about. 

Arthur blinked, and swallowed. “I can’t sleep.” He admitted. He looked away. Before he could start to feel the shame creeping over his face he channeled it into a scowl instead. He sat up and tried to rub the circles away from his eyes.

“You can’t sleep?” Merlin said. 

“Yes, Merlin, I can’t fucking sleep,” Arthur snapped. “It’s been going on long enough that I got a  _ sleeping draught from Gauis _ but fat load of good it did me.” 

A sudden understanding flashed in Merlin’s eyes as he thought back to the bottle he had delivered last night; a second later it shifted to concern and his eyes darted to every corner of the room. Arthur was so weary that he almost didn’t notice it. Instead he just glared at Merlin. 

“Looking for dust, are you?” He snarked. Merlin jumped, and his mouth dropped open like a gaping fish. 

“Well- I mean, maybe you’re allergic.”

“If that were true, I’d’ve had symptoms long before this.” As an example, Arthur reached passed Merlin to the shelf and swiped his index finger along the stained wood. Then he showed Merlin the accumulated dust on his finger. He glared the whole time. Merlin seemed more interested at looking in the seams of the shelf. 

Merlin just shrugged and took Arthur’s hand, whipping the dust off of his finger with his own thumb. 

“Maybe it’s a new allergy.” He said, while Arthur tried not to look like his skin was on fire where Merlin touched. 

“Guess you’d better clean it then,” Arthur said in a decidedly bitchy tone. Then, without sarcasm, or an eyeroll, not even groaning about the extra work (that he should have already been doing anyways,) Merlin left to go and find a duster. 

By the time he returned Arthur had dragged himself from his bed and poured himself a glass of water. He was sitting in front of the fireplace and chucking in another piece of wood. 

“So is this why you’ve been a grouch for the last few days?” Merlin asked loudly. He was standing on his tip toes as he looked on top of Arthur’s wardrobe. Just looking. He wasn’t even using the duster, which he held limply in one hand. 

“Sure,” Arthur huffed, sitting back in his chair and crossing his feet next to the fire. 

“Maybe you caught a cold while we were camping,” 

“Do I look like I’ve got a cold, Merlin?” Arthur glared over his shoulder at Merlin, who was now crouched and looking underneath Arthur’s bed. 

Merlin looked back at him and pursed his lips. “I mean, you don’t exactly look great…”

Ouch. Even if it was true, it still hurt, so Arthur just glowered at Merlin while Merlin stared back unapologetically. 

“Seriously,” Merlin said, digging the whole in deeper, “You look like half the life’s been drained out of you. The pits in your eyes are darker than your father’s soul.” 

“MERLIn!” Arthur shouted, aghast. Merlin just wrinkled his nose as he laughed, and turned back to staring underneath his bed. 

“That was uncalled for, and completely disrespectful,” Arthur said firmly. There came a noise of non agreement from Merlin, before he finally did stand. He was still holding the duster dumbly, as far as Arthur could tell he hadn’t even used it at all. 

“It did make you look a little more alive, though,” Merlin commented cheekily.

“I feel plenty alive, thanks. Don’t ever say something like that again.” Arthur said, but he looked away while he said it, keeping his eyes on the floor instead of on Merlin, who turned his head away, and down too. 

Merlin didn’t look like he regretted his words. Somehow Arthur didn’t think he ever would. 

With a sigh Arthur stood and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Alright, what time is it? I’m sure the knights are already down in the training field.” 

“Arthur. The sun is barely up.” 

“Right, and we train after breakfast.”

“You haven’t even touched your breakfast,” 

“Help me get dressed, Merlin.” Arthur glared. And so he did. Arthur went to train the knights while Merlin stayed to search the chamber for dust.

\----

Arthur’s thought process had been something along the lines of  _ the faster I get there the sooner I can be done. _ It turns out it didn’t work like that. The knights, while already in the field, were unprepared for the prince to be down for training already. Usually they got to wait for a few minutes while Arthur took care of morning business. 

Usually they got to finish their tea. 

Arthur may or may not have chucked the kettle across the courtyard. 

(good quality metal. It was only a little bit dented.) 

Unfortunately, his horrid mood did nothing to deter the antics of the knights, and with his head pounding like it was training seemed to take even longer. And without Melrin there- 

Because Merlin was cleaning all the dust in his room-

It all felt so very boring. He didn’t even do his own training, afraid he would look like a total fool in his current state, so he just sat around yelling orders. It was a terrible morning. 

Then after that he had a meeting with Leon. something about patrols. (Why was everything about patrols?) It didn’t really matter, because he couldn’t concentrate and was probably an ass about it. The noon bells couldn’t come quickly enough. 

When they did finally ring Arthur excused himself without so much as a goodbye. Mid-sentence he just stood up and left the room. 

It was terribly rude to do, especially to Leon, who he considered to be a friend. He just really wanted to be done with the day, and having his lunch seemed like the perfect excuse to zone out without anyone but Merlin noticing. 

And who gave a shit what Merlin noticed, it’s not like he didn’t already know what was wrong. 

Parts of it, anyways. Some of it. He knew that Arthur couldn’t sleep. He did not need to know that whenever Arthur was trying to sleep he had taken to thinking of stolen blankets and a body next to his. 

It would also be great if Merlin never noticed the way that Arthur had been leaning into his touch. The thought was so mortifying that Arthur closed his eyes, grimacing as he imagined the embarrassment. He took a deep breath, and then he opened the doors to his chambers. The quiet would do him some good. 

“Oh, hello Arthur.” 

Morgana was in his chambers. 

“Are you just going to stand there?” 

Why was Morgana in his chambers? Gods almighty this was not what he wanted. He couldn’t even process why- how- who had invited her? Had he forgotten something on his schedule? Had Merlin- 

Oh that was it.

Arthur spotted his manservant sitting by the table with Morgana. He must have dragged  _ her  _ into this. Stupid Morgana with her stupid books and her stupid theories. Theories that he probably fell into. Probably- no, definitely. He had already admitted that he was touch starved to himself. He couldn’t go back on the admittance now. 

After standing there blinking like and idiot for way too long, Arthur smiled forcibly. “Hello Morgana,” He said. She returned the smile sadistically. She was probably enjoying this. 

Arthur didn’t see it, but Merlin kicked Morgana’s foot underneath the table and shot her a look. Morgana blinked at him- sharing unspoken words- and then batted her stupidly long eyelashes back at Arthur. 

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. It’s Gwen’s day off, and I couldn’t bear the other maid sent to replace her. Would you mind it terribly if I joined you for lunch?” 

Lies. All terribly lies. Merlin had betrayed him and now Morgana was here to beat him into unconsciousness. (Honestly though, that could work. Perhaps he should take the idea into consideration).

Arthur blinked, the forced smile still on his face, and dropped his crumpled jacket onto a chair. 

“If you must.” He said as pleasantly as he could manage. Morgana quirked her eyebrows at him, so he must have failed. He sat, his feet brushing against someone else's- he couldn’t really tell who. He rearranged his feet and sat more comfortably, folding his hands together on the table. 

“So…” Morgana said, “How have you been sleeping, Arthur? You’re looking a little drained.”

Wow. Right to the chase then. 

“Oh I’m doing quite well, thanks,” Arthur said, glaring at Merlin, who snorted. 

“Really, because Merlin says-”

“Speaking of Merlin,” Arthur turned to the betrayer, “Why don’t you go and grab us lunch from the kitchen?” 

Merlin blinked, and looked at Mogana, who looked exaggeratedly at the door. Clearly they had talked about how to handle him. Arthur frowned with the discomforted that idea gave him. 

“Right then, I’ll go do that,” Merlin said, slapping the table as he stood. As he was moving to leave his eyes caught onto Arthur’s. 

Arthur wondered for a second if there was something Merlin intended him to see in his eyes, but the moment was too brief, and Arthur had far too little energy to think about what that look could mean. Both he and Morgan remained silent until Merlin was fully out the door.

“So,” Morgana said, crossing her hands on the table, a slight smile on her face, “Merlin says you’ve been having trouble sleeping.” 

Arthur pursed his lips, nodding only because there was no other viable explanation. 

“Yes.” He said curtly. 

“...And he did a very thorough cleaning today, only he didn’t find much… dust.” Dust, in this case, was a code word for evil magical totems sent to disrupt the sanity of Camelot's crown prince. But Arthur didn’t know that, and he really didn’t need to know it either. 

“No dust then?” Arthur asked, trying to sound disinterested. He expected a witty reply, but instead Morgana just stared him down. She tilted her chin to level her gaze with his. Her eyes were just as sharp as they always were, but this time it was with worry. 

Arthur blinked and looked away. He could still feel her looking at him. 

“What’s really the matter, Arthur?” She asked. Her voice was just about as soft as Morgana’s voice could get; which meant that she still sounded absolutely in control over everything, but in a comforting way instead of a  _ I could kill god if I wanted to  _ way. 

Pursing his lips again, Arthur considered giving her a bullshit answer. Then he remembered that it had been her voice whispering in his head all these nights, all those old memories with her resurfacing. Finally he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Do you remember all of those new agey books you used to read?” 

Morgana paused. “I read all sorts of books, Arthur. You’re going to have to be more specific.” 

“The ones after you moved here…. After your father died. I think Gauis gave them to you.” 

“Do you need grief counseling too, Arthur?” Her tone was light, but clear what she had intended to say was  _ get to the point. _ But this was hard, okay? And it wasn’t exactly something that Arthur was good at. 

“I-” Suddenly Arthur got frustrated. He wanted to tuck his knees up to his chest,but he couldn’t.

(Not enough space, too much dignity,) 

The best he managed to do was to rub the skin over his knuckles as he tried to look anywhere but Morgana’s eyes. 

“Touch starved. Okay? I think I’m touch starved. All that “hug every day” bullshit started getting into my head and  _ I don’t even know why” _ lie “but now I can’t get it out of my head, and it’s stupid because I’m around people  _ all day _ and-” And Arthur could imagine the pats on his shoulder, tussling with his knights, a brief hug with his father- but it wasn’t enough. Why wasn’t it enough? 

He stared at the grains of wood on the table and bit his tongue before he said something stupid. 

_ I don’t feel like anyone loves me. _

He didn’t look at Morgana. 

And he didn’t finish the sentence he had started. Not outloud. Finally he shrugged, and looked out the window. 

“If I get tired enough hopefully I’ll just pass out, and that’ll be like a reset button or something.” He steeled his gaze and turned to look at Morgana, a lazy, entirely fake, smile on his face. 

Morgana did not look impressed. “Really?” She said. “That’s your answer?” 

“Would you like a different one?” 

Morgana rolled her eyes. “If you want to be difficult, that’s your choice. How many days has it been since you’ve slept?” 

“I don’t  _ not  _ sleep,” He just wasn’t getting a lot of sleep when he did. 

“Well I don’t sleep either,” Morgana said, “but you don’t see me being an utter ass about it.” 

Arthur snorted. 

“How many more nights can you go like this, Arthur?” Morgana snapped. 

“More than you,” Arthur glared. 

This earned a snort from Morgana as she said “I’m going to guess not.” The door creaked open as Merlin elbowed his way through, carrying a tray on his arms. Morgana greeted him with a smile, and then blinked her attention back to Arthur. 

“You got really close to being honest, Arthur. If you ever want to actually talk, you know I’m all ears.” 

“You are right,” Arthur glowered. “Your ears are ginormous.” 

Morgana smirked, and her eyes traveled to Merlin, who was still unloading the tray. 

_ Hey, don’t bring me into this _ , his eyes seemed to say, (It was in fact, exactly what his eyes were saying. Morgana deliberately ignored the message.) 

“Why, Arthur, I thought you liked large ears?” 

Merlin choked, and Arthur gave Morgana a look. “Why on earth would I care about ears?” 

“Eat your food, Arthur.” Morgana said, making direct eye contact with Merlin. Arthur rolled his eyes and focused on his food instead of the two idiots making conversation. 

He was so focused that he didn’t even notice when Merlin tugged self consciously on his ears, or the smirk Morgana sent him when he did. As annoying as they were, the lunch was over all too soon, and then it was back to duties for all three of them. 

The afternoon went dreadfully slow. And then so did the evening. Arthur took another sleeping drought, (this one, he had respectfully requested to be a bit stronger.) It barely helped. 

Again he was up late into the night. His head stuffed into his pillows, his blankets pulled up to shield him from the ever encroaching cold. This time though, there was a change. A knock on his chamber door. 

It was loud, and decisive. Arthur leaned up on his shoulders to stare at his door, wondering who could possibly want his attention this late at night. A second later the door cracked open and a hooded Morgana shaped shadow placed a book neatly on the food inside of the door. She made eye contact with Arthur, and waved one pale hand through the darkness. Then the door closed and she was gone again. 

Arthur had a suspicion that he already knew what was in the book. He narrowed his eyebrows at the shadowy shape on the floor. 

Half of him wanted to leave it there to rot. The other half didn’t want Merlin to find it in the morning and ask about what it was. It was that part of him that finally won, and he slipped out of bed, cursing the cold floor. The book felt heavy in his hands. 

He had never done a lot of reading, no more than he ever had to. He’d never had the time. Now he gulped at the cover, where imprinted on it was a sketch of a young girl hugging a man. It was called  _ The Theory Of Necessary Bonds, _ and Arthur hated the fact that he didn’t hate it. 

He set a candle next to his bed and squinted at the squiggly writing in the dark. 

Logically he knew that he should close the book and blow out the candle, he did, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep now anyways. 

At least this way he might find some actual answers.

(even if they were one’s he didn’t like). 

By the time Arthur was done reading the book he no longer needed the candle light to see. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! For any clarification that is needed, this turned into an au where Merlin ignores Kilgharrah's warnings about Morgana's magic and now they're magic buddies. They still don't agree on a lot of things, but Morgana trusts Merlin enough to hear him out on his point of view. 
> 
> Additionally! it's occurred to me that I have no idea where this fic takes place in the cannon time line... so... there may be some discrepancies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur get's his party on. He hates it. He also hates napping. Resolution????

“Did you get  _ any _ sleep?” Merlin asked. His voice startled Arthur, who hadn’t even realized he was in the room. 

“Do I look like I got any sleep?” He answered. If he was running through the woods right now he was quite sure that he’d be mistaken for a raccoon. Size difference be damned. 

“...Did you even  _ try _ to sleep?” Merlin’s tone grew accusatory as he glanced at the book resting by Arthur’s knee. 

“Well,  _ Merlin _ , if you had ever been as restless as I maybe you would understand that trying does not always get the job done.” 

Rolling his eyes Merlin crossed his arms, He spoke in a deeper voice, something that was obviously faked, 

“Clearly, Merlin, you’re not trying hard enough! Anything can be done with a bit of hard work!” When he was done he raised his eyebrows. 

Ordinarily Arthur would have yelled at him for this blatant impersonation, or he would have just laughed. He found he didn’t have the energy for either. Instead he stared at Merlin, trying to think of something witty to say back. 

It didn’t work. 

_ Gods, he was exhausted _ . 

The book hadn’t had much to say on sleepless nights. There was a whole chapter dedicated to it, yes, but the chapter itself was only three pages long, and it was written in the same stupidly large and fluid handwriting. In total, what was spaced on those three pages could have been squashed down to one if Arthur had been writing it. 

What it said was this: 

**_“Sleep deprivation is a common side effect of skin hunger”_ ** which was something the book had already described as another word for touch deprivation. Arthur found it to be quite accurate. 

**_“One may feel restless, or have trouble falling asleep. It is sometimes hard to know why. Some experience no feeling of wrong, only a sense that they cannot sleep. Others only know that something is not right.”_ **

It had been so frustrating. Only saying  _ some _ this and  _ some  _ that. It curved around the edges of his problems without actually ever telling him what was wrong. 

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice cut through the dim in his brain. Arthur had forgotten that he was there again. Suddenly he realized that the sun was much higher in the sky than it had been every other morning. 

“I need to get up”, He announced, but his legs didn’t want to move. His body was ordering him to stay in place and somehow that was more terrifying than anything else he had faced before. 

“ _ Merlin I need to get up, _ ” He repeated again, but what he really meant to say was  _ Help. _

“Absolutely not.” Merlin responded firmly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“There is no way you are leaving this room today. You look terrible, and your brain’s been chucked in the ocean. Arthur,  _ Arthur _ listen to me. We don’t even live near the ocean. That’s where your brain is right now.” 

Unable to think of something smart to say, Arthur just gaped at his manservant. “But I’m the prince,” he said. 

“ _ In the ocean.” _ Merlin restated, bending down to glare Arthur into submission.

“Your  _ eyes _ are the ocean,” Arthur snapped back, thinking it was a smart retort until the exact moment it was done leaving his mouth. Then they stared at each other. Merlin got this funny smile on his face as he tilted his head. He furrowed his eyebrows and pulled away. 

Since both of them were acknowledging that that was a weird thing to say, Arthur groaned and pressed his palms into his eye sockets. 

_ “Fine,” _ he said, “but you need to think of a good reason. I can’t have my kingdom think I’d abandon my duties for something trivial.”

“We’ll say you’re sick, that you were fighting off a cold and it finally got to you.”

It was kind of perfect. Hopefully it would even explain away all of Arthur’s poor behaviour this past week. Sometimes Merlin was smarter than he gave him credit for. 

“Fine.” He said, but what he really meant was  _ good work. _ Merlin nodded. Then he stepped away from the bed. Usually at this point Arthur would immerse himself in the day's work, or eat his breakfast. Today though he lay in his bed, resting against his pillows. With nothing else to do, he watched Merlin. 

If Merlin noticed, he didn’t say anything. Arthur was grateful for it. This would have been easier if Merlin hadn’t been the awakening of all his recent sleeplessness. 

If he and Merlin had never shared that bed roll he could have just continued with poor nights of sleep, thinking that it was normal. Never knowing what he was missing. 

But then there was that stupid hunt for the stupid stag and his father’s stupid feast-

The  _ feast _ . Suddenly Arthur shot wide up in his bed. 

“Merlin, the feast is tonight,” He said, horrified by the realization. Popping his head up from behind the table, (lord knows what he was doing,) Merlin raised an eyebrow. 

“Right, but you’re not going. You’re trying to save all the guests from this nasy cold,” 

“I can’t not go to my Father’s Yule feast, not when I caught the roast. We have lords coming from all over the kingdom, from different kingdoms even! If I don’t go they’ll all know that something is wrong and they will think Camalot to be weak! That will make every trade negotiation more difficult for the next year and a half- I can’t just-” 

“Stop spiraling,” Merlin said, “Fine then. Go to the feast and make an ass of yourself. Fall asleep in the pudding bowl, I’m sure that will be great for trade negotiations!” 

Merlin’s cheery sarcasm flew straight into Arthur’s heart as he sat there, completely horrified. Merlin was right. Arthur was in no shape to go to the feast. But Arthur was also right, because his presence would be required. 

“I-” He stopped, and looked at Merlin. Merlin’s eyes caught his, and Arthur was reminded of the ocean comment. “I’ll leave early. I can ask Morgana for some of her face paint- maybe that will help with,” he waved his face around his eyes, “this,”

“Or you could try and get some sleep,” Merlin suggested, rolling his eyes as he look back to whatever he had been doing.

“A nap is not going to fix a week’s lack of sleep, Merlin,” Arthur glowered. Merlin stopped what he was doing, and he looked back up at Arthur. He opened his mouth and shut it again. Then he clearly changed his mind and said something else. 

“Do you have any other plans for today?” He asked. 

“If I’m not sick I’ll have to do my usual rounds-”

“Nope.”

“But if I’m not sick then I have no reason not to-”

“Morgana will take care of if.”

Mogana? Arthur scrunched his eyebrows and glared at Merlin. What did Morgana know about any of Arthur’s duties? And Better yet, how was she supposed to explain Arthur’s absence? 

“Now put yourself to sleep, Arthur,or I’ll do it for you.” 

It was such an odd comment that Arthur didn’t even bother trying to process it, instead he just rolled over and threw his head into the pillows. 

The truth was Merlin really was considering knocking Arthur unconscious. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the power. The only reason he hadn’t yet was because Morgana said this was something Arthur needed to work through by himself. 

\----

Napping went surprisingly well. Nowhere near good, but Arthur passed out for a straight three hours from sheer exhaustion. Then he woke up around noon for no clear reason, and was unable to fall back asleep. 

He got up, ate lunch and hoped it would fix it. He tried to go back to his nap. No such luck. His eyes closed only to pop back open again, and no matter how he tossed and turned he always seemed to land staring at his bedside table where the book was still ledged. 

He might have opened it up again, to try and read it again, but Merlin was leaning in the armchair, and Arthur didn’t want to answer any questions if Merlin decided to ask. 

Instead Arthur curled into a ball under the blankets and tried to remember the book from pure memory alone. 

...That being said, his memory was a bit uncooperative at the moment, so instead he settled for remembering the parts that stuck out to him. 

The author of the book had had a very somber tone to his writing.  **_It seems,_ ** He had written,  **_that in this world sorrow is a very casual thing. People die, life changes, life moves on. But the mark of sorrow can carry with it unknown burdans, ones that are not so easily seen._ **

**_There are many variations of sorrow. Some bring people together, but most leave us alone. Sometimes it is we who isolate ourselves. Sometimes we are abandoned by those whose grief knows only consumption._ **

**_Connections that once existed are lost, and in its place is only a lingering grief and a remembering of what should be._ **

That page had been covered in water marks. Arthur knew that they were from Morgana, when she was young and felt alone. This chapter was about how a person could become touch starved. There were many causes, most of them interlinked, but it appeared that both Morgana and Arthur felt the strongest connection to this entry. 

When reading it Arthur couldn’t help but think of his mother, and what it would be like if she were alive. If she would comb his hair, or let him sit in her lap while she read to him stories. 

(The renewed grief in her absence struck him hard. He found himself imagining a world with her in it. Morgana would still be in it, but maybe Arthur would have been kinder to her when she arrived. Maybe they would have gone on long picnics together. Arthur, Morgana and Igraine. Maybe his father would have gone with them.) 

(This separate universe, the one that didn’t exist: it made his heart ache.) 

\----

Given that he didn’t sleep for the rest of the afternoon, instead laying in his bed and shifting positions  _ multiple  _ times, Arthur was quite ready for the feast. 

Don’t be mistaken, Arthur was in no way excited to go into a place with bright lights and high stakes:  _ all _ people wanting  _ all _ of his attention  _ all of the time- _ that wasn’t a very thrilling idea. No, what he was ready to do was get out of this awful bed. 

All afternoon he had laid there with nothing but his own brain to entertain himself. He had wanted to be done with the blasted mattress all together, but Merlin insisted he keep trying. He had gotten up at some point to do exercise drills, hoping to numb himself into unconsciousness again, but no such luck. If anything he was even more awake after that. Infact, he was so awake that he was tired of being awake, and too tired of being tired to not be awake. He had just about driven himself insane by the time Merlin said he should get read for the feast. 

Arthur leapt out of bed, which he hadn’t done in days, and Merlin helped him into a red jacket. Merlin had chosen the red jacked because A, Camelot, duh, and B… Well, it was just about the only color that didn’t make the bags under his eyes look worse then they already were. 

They were so bad that Morgana took one look and laughed, announcing that she  _ definitely _ didn’t have a color suited to cover up  _ that _ mess. The best option, she decided, was to “pick out a nice war paint and to go along with it.” 

Merlin, the miracle worker that he was, managed to track down a cream from one of the neighboring ladies. It worked fantastically well, giving him the look of a tired prince instead of  _ “oh goodness, is he alright? Arthur, do you need to go see Gauis?” _

(That comment was helpfully added by Gwen when she arrived with Morgana. Jokes on her though, because he already tried to go see Gauis. Now He’ll just have to suffer for eternity. Well, until something.)

\----

Arthur entered the throne room with Morgana by his side, and Merlin and Gwen following behind them. Arthur hadn’t wanted to be here for any longer than necessary, but it was custom for him to arrive first. His father would arrive later, fashionably late. Until then it would be up to Arthur and Morgana to entertain their guests. 

Gods, how mindless the chatter was. Morgana kept her hand wrapped around his arm the whole time, pinching him with her nails to help him focus. 

“A glorious hunt!” Yelled some lord in his ear. 

“Pardon?” Arthur asked, 

“Your stag! Such a beast could only be brought down by the best hunter in camelot!” 

Arthur had to blink once, and then twice. It was a fine deer, sure, but there was nothing special about it. Any of his knights could have brought it down. Any of his citizens too. Still, he gave a forced grin, Morgana pinching his arm, and raised his glass. 

“I’ll take that compliment,” He said. Satisfied, the man walked away. Only to have his place filled by another, and another after that. Arthur was grateful for dinner, as that meant it was time to sit. 

His father entered the hall and the roast was cut. They sat down and at least for the next hour Arthur would only have to worry about stuffing his own face and drinking the wine which Merlin brought. 

The food was easy to focus on. It was good, and it filled his stomach. It made him feel woozy, and just for a second he thought he might sleep well tonight. Maybe what he needed was just to relax, and this wine was certainly doing a good job of that. 

Arthur let himself sink fully into his chair, almost hoping he would fall asleep. Then he caught his father’s eye from down the table. Arthur looked away and regained his posture. All of a sudden the bright torches and the constant laughter all seemed like too much. He wanted to leave. He took a quick breath, his chest feeling tight. 

He didn’t know what to do with his hands, or where to look. Or how to exist even. This was usually so easy.  _ Usually _ he could laugh, join in, but now he felt so separate from even the chair he was sitting on. 

Under the table Arthur felt something brush his foot, finding it apparently, because the next thing he felt was a tap. And then another. It was so bizarre that it snapped Arthur out of wherever his mind had been and he almost looked under the table to see what bizarre rat had decided his foot was it’s toy. Instead he caught Morgana’s eye, and realized that it was she, and not a rat, who had found his foot. 

“Are you ready to go?” She asked quietly, having solely secured his attention. 

“No,” Arthur said, and steeled his eyes onto his cup. Not even the guests had begun leaving. It would be a disgrace to leave now. Morgana rolled her eyes and moved her foot away, joining into conversation with whoever sat beside her. 

He lasted an hour after that. Three guests had left at that point. That would have to be good enough. Merlin’s hand brushed his shoulder as he leaned in to refill Arthur’s cup and Arthru stopped him, standing instead. He walked over to his father’s chair and leaned down. 

“I’m retiring for the night,” He declared out of politeness alone. His father wouldn’t appreciate an untold departure, not one so early in the night. 

“Already?” Uther asked, glancing up with surprise. 

“I believe I’m fighting off a cold,” Arthur said, remembering the excuse. His father, warm with wine and food, laughed. It was a good sound. 

“You have looked half dead all night, I suppose that’s what you get for taking Morgana out this afternoon. Very well, rest and be good tomorrow.” 

Apparently that was how Morgana had explained away his absence. He could imagine her sitting in her room all day, pretending she was outside and pretending that Arthur went with her. It must have taken a load of convincing anothing not to let any extra servants into their rooms while they were “out.” 

His father waved him away and Arthur was free. He practically charged out of the throne room, going as fast as his sluggish body would allow. Morgana tipped her glass to him as he passed and he nodded to her in return. She had done a lot for him these past few days. 

“Now that wasn’t so bad,” Merlin commented as they exited the hall. Arthur grunted in response. They walked together through the long empty halls, the echoes of the feast growing further and further away. 

They entered Arthur’s chambers and closed the door behind them. Arthur paused, leaning back against the wooden doors, and soaked in the silence. For having hated the silence so, usually late at night when everything felt so cold, in the moment he welcomed it. The thruming in his head eventually died down and he realized that Merlin was staring at him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice was cautious and low. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Merlin, you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me.” 

Merlin gave him a doubtful look, but he kept his skepticism to himself. He helped Arthur change out of his formal wear and into something more comfortable, and then he went to stoke the fire while Arthur climbed into bed. This is usually when Merlin would leave. Arthur would close his eyes and a few minutes later he would hear the door creak as Merlin returned to his own chambers. It never happened.

Eventually Arthur cracked open his eyes. He sat up and looked across the room towards the fireplace. Merlin was laying on the carpet with one of Arthur’s books flipped open in front of him. 

“...What are you doing?” Arthur asked. 

“Reading,” Merlin answered, like it was obvious. And all of a sudden it was obvious. 

“You don’t have to stay, Merlin,” Arthur said darkly. 

“I’m making sure no witches keep you awake.” There was that tone again. Something both real and fake. 

“By reading? Very effective, I’m sure.” 

“Well I’ve got to do something while I wait, and no I will not be polishing your armor.” He looked up from the book and Arthur felt his voice catch in his throat. 

The glow from the fire baked Merlin in a golden light. Something in Arthur’s gut told him that that was exactly how it was supposed to be. Merlin and fire just went together. Arthur remembered how his skin tingled as it brushed against Merlin’s- how warm he always was, like there was a constant heat in his blood, warmer than the average person.

Arthur wanted to be close to that warmth again. Just for a little while. He just wanted- 

He wanted to not be alone anymore. 

Arthur looked away from Merlin and fell back again on his pillow, raising an arm and laying it over his face. Still, he heard Merlin’s words. 

“You’re not going to sleep tonight, are you.” It was a statement. Not a question. 

“No.” Arthur answered. He could feel Merlin thinking from across the room. 

“...When was the last time you slept well?” 

Letting out a big sigh Arthur considered not answering at all, or sending Merlin away all together. Instead he listened to the crackling of the fire, and again he remembered the warmth he was lacking. 

“...When we camped.” He said, and then, “Must have been that blanket you brought. Damned thing was too perfect, I haven't felt a better blanket since. I long for it now. It haunts my dreams.” 

“You such a liar,” Merlin said. Only this time his voice was noticeably closer, so close that Arthur jumped, opening his eyes to stare at Merlin. His manservant was crouching by the side of his bed, eyes staring expectantly at Arthur. 

“I know,” Arthur said, “But it’s easier than the truth.” 

And oh boy did Arthur wish he could take that one back. With Merlin staring at him with  _ those _ eyes, and with the moonlight, and with  _ everything _ … It sounded dangerously close to thoughts he specifically didn’t think about. 

What he had meant was-

Well, you know what he meant. 

Merlin either didn’t understand what Arthur had implied, or fully caught onto the actual meaning of what Arthur meant, so he tapped the mattress with one hand. 

“Scoot over,”

“What?”

“ _ Scoot over,  _ I’m coming in.” He took off his shoes, and his jacket too. He waved his arms again at Arthur when Arthur didn’t move. (Arthur was still trying to process). Once he did finally move over Merlin flipped back the blankets and climbed in. 

“You know, I don’t know how you can’t sleep in this. This bed is ridiculously comfortable,” Merlin said. Arthur stared at him, dumbfounded. As the silence grew longer, and Arthur couldn’t figure out what to say, Merlin looked more and more hesitant. 

“Is this okay?” He asked. 

_ Yes. Yes it is, but how- _

“Yeah,” Arthur said, though his voice cracked. Merlin nodded, and opened his mouth. He shut it again and narrowed his eyes at nothing. Now that they were both in his bed it seemed that neither of them were sure what to do. 

“So-” Merlin wnet at the same time as Arthur said, 

“You really don’t have to if you don’t-” 

The both stopped, and Merlin chuckled nervously. Then he leaned back against the pillows, still not quite laying down fully. 

“Go to sleep, Arthur,” He said. 

Arthur nodded once, slowly, and then, in a moment of bravery, he spoke. 

“...Could I put my arm around you?” He asked, feeling extrordonarily stupid. If Merlin thought he was weird he didn’t say anything. What he did do was shift further down in the bed, so he was laying down properly, and he rolled closer to Arthur. 

It was the same as it had been that morning, though with less entangeling. Merlin’s back was to Arthur, only he didn’t feel far away. It was an invitation. Slowly, and very hesitantly, Arthur wrapped one arm around Merlin’s waist. He pulled him closer, so there was no weird stretching involved.

Merlin's back was pressed to his chest. 

He could probably feel Arthur’s heard beating. 

Arthur took a deep breath. He reminded himself that Merlin had been the one to climb into  _ his _ bed, and that Merlin would not be here if he didn’t want to be. That this was okay. 

He closed his eyes. 

Merlin was warm next to him. His presence felt heavy, and solid. The world felt smaller, but in a good way. His bed felt smaller too. Merlin’s ribs moved up and down with a slow rhythm and eventually Arthur realized that his own breathing had slowed to the same pace. 

It was comfortable. 

For the first time in seven days Arthur fell asleep peacefully. He slept through the whole night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuhah! Cuddles have been achieved.

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy hey! So I have no updating schedule planned, but I have a lot of motivation and a self made goal of 20,000 words a month. So. Stay tuned.


End file.
